Red Alert
by RedShocktrooper
Summary: Strange Men in brown clothing attack the Gallian town of Bruhl, with strange flying machines. Rated T for violence. Complete, VC/Red Alert 1. Leave a Review, even if I won't update any more.
1. Invasion Confirmed

**Valkyria Chronicles: Red Star Rising**

**A VC/Red Alert 1 Crossover**

_Disclaimer: I do not own VC and its characters, nor do I own Command & Conquer, Red Alert, or its characters and units._

_A/N: I'm not discontinuing Battlefield Gallia, it's merely on hiatus._

---Gallia, 1935---

A strange truck with an even stranger symbol came to a stop. The men around the truck wore strange uniforms, and held strange weapons, with banana-shaped clips. One of them was even armed entirely with hand grenades.

A concrete slab came out from beneath the truck, and the back of the truck grew into a garage. From the garage, a mid sized building grew. The truck disappeared into the Garage, and a monotone voice called out:

"New Construction Options... Building... Construction Complete."

From nothing, another building suddenly sprouted from the ground near the Garage.

The soldiers held their AK-47s down. They didn't expect any Allied units to be in the area.

For, to their knowledge, there was no Western Allies. They would occupy this version of Europe unhindered.

As time passed, and more buildings sprouted from the ground, and troops materialized out of thin air from the bowels of the Barracks, and another Garage formed, strange looking, off-black, double barrel tanks rolled out of this second Garage, and a circular pad held a strange contraption, which took to the air to scout out the surrounding area.

The Soviet Union would conquer this land, no matter the cost. They had the Equipment. They had Technological Superiority, and they had Numbers. Nothing these "Europans" could toss at them would do much against them.

They had the Ultimate Weapon, as well.

---...---

The Hind Pilot had been flying for hours, and he was accompanied by a another Hind, and a transport helicopter (the Allies called them "Chinooks"), laden with a load of Rifle Infantry, with their AK-47 and AKM assault rifles.

They eventually came to a small town.

---Bruhl---

An unfamiliar sound. She looked up, spotting a trio of dark gray flying machines, kept aloft by means unknown to her, and bearing red stars on them; Markings with no meaning to her. The machines stopped above her hometown, and one of them, the larger one, descended. It disappeared behind the buildings, and the somewhat smaller ones simply hovered in place.

Then, a sound that she never wanted to hear. From the strange Machines, a Rattling sound...

The sound of machine gun fire, and the screaming of civilians.

After a few seconds of the terrible sound, the three flying machines flew in the direction from which they came; they made a strange "chop-chop-chop" sound as they did so.

She, and the two members of the town watch that had followed her, dashed for Bruhl, as the screams stopped, and with them, the rattling. Who deploys Shocktroopers against _civilians_?

The Spy they'd captured could go to hell for all she cared; right now, someone was killing the people of her hometown.

---Meanwhile, in Bruhl itself---

Wasteful. Absolutely wasteful. They had better things to expend their rifle rounds on, like _actually enemy combatants_.

The Soviet riflemen held their AK-47s low again; they had dispensed the majority of the townspeople who had gathered like sheep around them, with a hailstorm of soviet-made 7.62 rifle rounds.

One of them, the seeming leader of the death squad, patted his assault rifle, and smiled. He wondered... would he get a medal for being the first Soviet to kill the enemy (well, _third_ Soviet. The Hind Pilots nabbed some of them).

He looked around, as did his squad. They grouped back together, and conversed. It was a short way into a conversation about the Soviet plans for this new territory, when the Squad Leader spotted a red bandanna.

After questioning his squad about any surviving townspeople (to which they said no), he asked if there was any possibility that they missed some (again, to which they replied, "neyet"). He raised his AK-47 to his shoulder, and walked towards the red bandanna. He looked closer, and saw that a brown haired girl was wearing it.

A brown haired girl with a ri...

_Blam_. The Squad Leader fell down, a hole having formed in his head. The four other soldiers readied their own Kalashnikovs, and advanced towards where the bandanna had been.

---Bruhler's POV---

The look on that man's face when she pulled the trigger... yes, he had killed most of everyone she knew, but, still...

Yes, he was about to do the same to her, but when the rifle in her hands made the loud sound any gun makes, the look on his face, beneath that drab brown helmet...

The other four soldiers, in similar drab, raised their odd-looking guns to their shoulders. They shouted something, in a tongue unknown to her, and their guns made the same rattling sound. She ducked, narrowly escaping the rifle ammunition poured onto where she had stood.

A roaring sound. A strange, armored box with a machine gun atop it opened up on the strange men, as they redirected their guns from her, to the light blue-light gray box. A door on the back opened up, and out came three men with rifles that looked even odder than the ones the men in brown had, and two men with some sort of lance.

The black weapons held by the men in gray and blue tore through the ones in brown, as the two sides exchanged fire. After a short firefight, all the men in brown lay dead, along with one of the strange lancers and one of the riflemen.

One of the men, from beneath the light gray helmet upon his head, looked upon the carnage created by the soldier in brown.

He related the scene in front of him to one he had seen in a place called "Belarus." He then ordered the men to look for any survivors, so that they could evacuate them.

He looked at one of the men, the one she'd shot. The hole in his head did not match up with the wholes created by their ammunition. The strange rifle went back up to his shoulder; she didn't blame him, to a degree. She had no idea what they wanted here...

"Lower your weapon, miss."

She turned around. One of the men, with the strange black rifles, had pointed it at her. The look on his face proved his intentions.

"Miss, I don't want to harm you. Lower your weapon."

She did so. She looked carefully at the soldier, eying his uniform. Light gray... was he imperial? Light blue... was he Gallian?

"Don't worry, I'm an Allied soldier."

She was confused, but he was lowering his weapon.

"Sorry for scaring you miss, but, I can't be too sure."

She nodded to the soldier. While she had no idea what the "Allies" were, they seemed to be against the men who had killed most of Bruhl.

"Sir... who were those men?"

The Allied soldier looked at her. "You mean, the Soviets? That was a death squad... they probably wanted to build a base here, and sent them to kill everyone in the town."

Soviets?

She looked at the dead soldier in black, with his strange machine gun. "They came in strange flying machines... what were they?"

"Helicopters... Hinds, and Chinooks."

The soldier produced a fearful look. Those terms meant something.

"Miss, may I ask your name?"

"Alicia Melchiott, Bruhl town watch."

He nodded to Alicia, then patted her shoulder.

"Miss Melchiott, my apologies for the atrocity the Soviets have committed. Trust me, as soon as our Commander hears about this, it will not go unnoticed."

The soldier lead her away, away from the slaughter the "soviets" had performed.

---On Hold...---

_Leave a Review. Though, it seems, either way, the Sevens will end up shooting at Communists, be they in the Wehrmacht, or allied with the Western Allies from Red Alert._

_Leave a Review, Tabvadish (I botch that, no?)_


	2. Hell March

_Help!_

_Should I have units from just Vanilla* RA1, or should I toss in the units from the Aftermath and Counterstrike as well?_

_Also, a note about weaponry: Red Alert units will have Red Alert weapons (even if that means completely unrealistic ones, but then again, I'm shooting for Ralism in this fic). The 'strange black rifle' in Chapter 1 is an M16, for instance. Keep in mind: Despite the 1950's setting, Red Alert's overall tech level is that of the Vietnam war (with some odd bits, such as Tesla Tanks and Soviet Shock Troopers)._

---Soviet Base, Gallia, 1935---

The Soviet Commander pounded his hand against the armor of his Heavy Tank, a double barrel T-80, and tossed an angry look at the soldier who had relayed bad news to him.

The soldier had told of an allied presence noted by a Spy Plane that had killed the scouting party sent to the town of "Bruhl" to clear things out for heavier forces, such as Grenadiers and Flamethrowers. An Allied group of three squads of infantry, and two tanks, an Abrams medium tank and a Patton light tank, had killed the party.

An _Allied_ group.

The Commander declared (for the umpteenth time) his hatred for the Chronosphere, even if the device was responsible for the remnants of the Union's mighty armies being deployed so distantly as to be in a different place and time, in another time line.

Again, the sound of flesh against steel.

The Commander looked upon the troops in front of him. With their AK-47s and RPG-2s and hand grenades, they stood ready to fight, and frankly, didn't care if it was the Allied swine or these "Gallians" that they filled with lead and rockets.

He patted the armor on the tank, then motioned for his troops to move out. Apparently, the fairly random Chrono-drop had placed the Mobile Construction Vehicle in proximity with an area known as "Randgriz," the Gallian capital, supposedly.

The troops piled into the GAZ-AA supply trucks, and a force consisting of ten twin-cannon Heavy Tanks followed them.

---Allied Base, Near Bruhl---

He rode in a strange tank of identical abilities to these Medium tanks used by the "Allies." The darker blues of the Edelweiss contrasted minutely with the lighter blues and grays of the Pattons, though the 88mm gun nicely supplemented the 75mm autocannons of the Pattons and the 90mm guns of the Abramses.

His sister apparently was both the caretaker of such a vehicle, and more than a little confused about these "Allies" having tanks that matched up exactly with the Edelweiss.

Welkin felt a bit distraught at the Allies grinding the treads of the Abrams tanks crushing many an animal beneath them, but Imperial forces were more than enough to convince him that it was for the better. Isara was still trying to make heads and tails of the Allies not only coming up with, but mass producing their own Edelweisses. Alicia simply gripped her rifle, firing it at the Imperial soldiers who had come to pick up were the Soviets left off. The Soviets had done more than enough already; she wasn't about to let Imperials pick up where they left off.

The cracking sounds of the M16 rifles used by the Allied soldiers nearly drowned out the thunderous bangs created by both the Edelweiss, the Abrams medium tanks, and the Patton and light tanks.

That Chopping sound. Alicia ducked behind the turret, Welkin ducked into the turret, and Isara wasn't out in the open in the first place. The sound was accompanied by the cheering of the Allied troops; the three of them looked up, and noted the light gray paint jobs on the Helicopters, as the two of them opened up on the Imperial forces.

The grays of the Imperials conflicted with those of the Allied troops, but the numbers of troops in brown and gray was decreasing rapidly as rockets poured from the helicopters onto the enemy.

_Pum. Pum. Pum._

_ Pish Pish Pish._

_ Cra-cra-crack, cra-cra-crack._

_ Fweesh... kersh..._

---Randgriz High Command---

Damon looked out his window. The startling sight of the strange black flying machines, accompanied by the chopping and whining sounds. His troops were being overwhelmed by the airborne machines, and he regretted having disregarded that Darscen idea of aircraft.

A loud roar, followed by the sounds of rockets firing and an explosion.

Outside, the Army was getting eaten alive by the enemy troops; the Gallian tanks falling in droves to the ten twin-cannon tanks the enemy had.

"General! The armored car is waiting!"

"Yes; yes... it is lost here! We shall ret..."

Another roar, rockets, and an explosion. Damon, and with him, the normal Army's only hope of survival, disappeared to a well-placed salvo from a passing MiG-29 Fulcrum. The Army tossed down their weapons; the Soviets took no prisoners; they had no interest in having more people than they needed. They also held no interest in civilians, either.

---End Chapter 2---

_*Vanilla refers to the version of the game without any changes (No player-made mods, or official expansion packs)._

_The Soviets mindlessly slaughtering everyone spawns from early Soviet campaign missions: The player is instructed on multiple occasions that killing Civilians is OK, and even encouraged in some cases._

_And something dawned on me: When I compared the Armored Trooper from VC2 to the Allied Peacekeeper from RA3 (and that all you need to do is throw Molotov cocktails at it), someone noted how weird a VC/RA3 crossover would get. Well, 1. Gallia is screwed, and 2. it would only be a matter of time before it becomes a great Commie back stab clusterfuck. Really, Red Alert revolves around the Reds backstabbing people. Red Alert: Stalin's Cronies, and Kane, to a degree. Red Alert 2: Yuri (who backstabs the Soviet Union as a whole!), and Yuri's Revenge has the Player backstabbing the Allies **and** Yuri. Red Alert 3: Cherdenko (Played by Tim Curry, no less!), to Krukov, the Allies, and The Player. And RA3: Uprising is just one BIG back stab on part of the player. So Yeah._

_So a VC/RA3 crossover would work like this:_

_1. Sovs and Imps work together; Crush Allies/Federation/Gallia._

_2. Soviets backstab Empire_

_3. Imps and Soviets blow the shit out of each other._

_4. Allies/Federation/Gallia get their acts together, and attack the Sovs and Imps._

_5. Outside Party (Japan, Yuri, Purple People Eaters) decides "All your country are belong to us!"_

_6. Everyone gang rapes Outside Party._

_7. Soviets backstab everyone._

_8. Allies backstab Gallia and Federation_

_9. Allies win! Yay!_

_10. Soviets go back in time and screw things up._

_11. Repeat steps 1-10 as needed._

_Please Review. Or... I'll have a GCBC (**G**iant **C**ommie **B**ackstab **C**lusterfuck)!_


	3. Abolishment

_Sorry about the overly long A/N at the end of last chapter. Thanks for the Reviews, Tabvadisch..es? (Well, it's phonetic...)_

_**---Moscow, Soviet Union, February 14th, 1954---**_

_The final acts of the Great Second World War. Allied troops closed in on the last bastion of resistance against the advancing forces of the Capitalist sons of bitches (and bitch), as the Soviet Commander looked out of his T-80 at the modified Chronosphere; the device would send his forces to an alternate time line, along with a Mobile Construction Vehicle that would aid him in the conquest of the Earth chosen._

_His landing zone was an area known locally as "Gallia," though for the intents of the operation, it was "Landing Area 1," or LA1._

_The MCV's diesel engine roared, as did the turbines of the trio of T-80's and the GAZ-AA supply trucks laden with infantry. Once he was on the other side, he would have the build patterns and training abilities for even the most secretive additions to the Soviet Arsenal._

_The constant "Boom-boom" of the twin 105mm guns of other Heavy Tanks drowned out the otherwise calm and cold Siberian wasteland. Comrade Winter was doing nothing to slow the Allied advance, and in fact, seemed to be aiding it. Traitorous swine..._

_The Whirring sound from the Chronosphere. His troops glowed blue, and the nigh-trademark sound of the device activating marked the end of their time in this era..._

_**---Randgriz, Gallia, March, 1935---**_

_...and the beginning of their time in another. The Commander looked around... they'd been dropped in a city park, and thus, he didn't have enough room to deploy his MCV. The other Heavy Tanks had come down in bad places... one of them was on it's top, having been placed in a precarious balance atop a building. The other, was wrapped around a jungle gym._

_Civilians looked on in awe at the remaining Heavy Tank, plus the GAZ-AA trucks, and the large truck that was the MCV. He felt that he needed to get out before he drew too much attention to himself. The tank's engine roared to life, the low-pitched whine of the turbine and the grumbling of the MCV and Supply Trucks clashing with the awed looks of the civilians. He knew the common policy against them, but at the moment, he focused on getting a base up. The Soviet vehicles formed into a column, with the tank at the front._

_**---Damon's office---**_

_The commander of the Gallian military was absolutely dumbfounded. Supposedly, a large black tank, similar colored trucks, and one particularly large one. All these vehicles bore a strange mark... a Red Star. He figured, it was just peasants making things up, until he heard the sound of a foreign engine... a low-pitched whine._

_Damon looked out his window. A black tank, trailed by black trucks, plus a large one. All had red stars._

_Hm... probably some militia prick playing a gag of some sort._

---Present---

The Soviet Commander looked at the charred remains-of-remains of a high ranking officer's body. The MiG strike had done it's job. After praising the Mikoyan-Gurevich design bureau, he set to work converting the left of the building into his personal command post. Undoubtedly, he would have to defend it.

The Commander questioned one of his soldiers about the identity of the dead officer. The soldier responded that the name on the door suggested that it was a General by the name of Damon. The Commander ordered everything salvageable be taken and pressed into Soviet service...

He needed a new name for his forces. To his knowledge, the Soviet Union had ceased to exist.

His troops would henceforth be known as the Pact. But first, he needed to pick his friends. Supposedly, an "East Europan Imperial Alliance" lay both to Gallia's south and east. Such a Nation would be a useful friend, though he eventually hoped to turn them from 'friend' to 'satellite state'.

He commanded the soldier to get him a method of communication; a phone, a telegraph, a homing pigeon, anything. The soldier came back with a common telephone. The commander picked up the receiver.

"Number please."

"Connect me to the EEIA's Emperor."

"Sir... I can't..."

"Listen. You will do so, or I will send out Operatives for you personally."

"Sir? What do you mean?"

"Get me the Emperor, or I will have you _killed_. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Also, don't try to call the police, or law enforcement, or whatever you call it. They have a distinct lack of antiaircraft and antitank weapons."

"Yes, sir!"

"Good _tabvadisch_. But make it quick."

---End Chapter 3---


	4. Mud

_Aftermath Units incoming... For simplicity purposes, Soviet Shock Troopers are called "Tesla Troopers," owing to the VC Shocktroopers, with their SMGs and Auto-rifles._

_Because RA Shock Troopers are an entirely different thing from VC Shocktroopers. The fact that the "Shock" is literal is a big one._

_Also, mandatory Heads-Up: von Groebel appears in this chapter, albeit very minutely._

---Kloden woods, Soviet Base, Gallian Soviet Republic, 1935---

"Com aut, leetle Ally pigs."

Ten men, in full black, scanned the area for any civilians (and thus, combatants). They held not the common AK-47 assault rifle used by the rest of the soviet infantry, for they were not riflemen... not in a normal meaning, at least.

Alicia found herself, along with the Welkin and Isara, pressed into service with the Alliance troops. The M16 she'd been issued was, at her own request, painted light gray. She looked around the corner from beneath the brown helmet the Allied troops had issued her (plus most other sargents otherwise in the Militia), and noted the weapons the soviet troops used.

Long cattle prods that fired a stream of electrons (or so Allied intelligence said). She took no chances, and stayed back from them.

Allied intelligence also said that they were 'Tesla Troopers.' The name made her scratch her head; she hadn't a clue who "Tesla" was.

One of the Medium Tanks used by the Allies rounded a corner, and directed its 90mm gun towards the ten Soviet soldiers. One of the soviets shouted something, and the whole mass of them opened up on the tank. Before it could even fire off a shot, the mass of them had reduced it to a smoldering pile of steel, after the both the ammo and gas tanks cooked off.

She gripped the assault rifle tighter in her hands, and clicked it from 'Safe' to 'Burst.' The light click alerted one of the Tesla Troopers, and he stepped away from the group, and around the corner behind which Alicia was hiding. The Shock Rifle in his hands arced electricity, as he looked for the source of the click. It cast an eerie glow about the area around him, alternating between a Valkyrur-esque blue to yellow.

He turned another corner into a small bunker, and would have met eyes with Alicia weren't it for the reflective visor covering his eyes.

A great tingling feeling overtook her as the Tesla Trooper fired the shock rifle. After the sudden burst, Alicia fell to the ground, the shock rifle building up another charge with which to attempt to cook her. She reached for the M9 issued to her at her waist, but the Tesla Trooper knocked it from her hands, as the familiar blue-yellow glow appeared in the confined space.

The ever common zap, followed by another tingling feeling. She felt herself loose control over her muscles, as they began to spasm. With the little control she had, she looked up at the Tesla trooper, and attempted to plea.

But, it's quite hard to plea with a reflective visor, isn't it?

_Crack_.

The Tesla Trooper fell limp, a whole formed where a 5.56 round had tore through his head and visor.

A familiar man in a gray uniform extended his hand down to her, and pushed the dead Soviet out of his way. The name tag bore the name of the "spy" from back in Bruhl.

"You OK, Alicia?" Welkin said, pulling (and subsequently holding) her up. She still had no control over her muscles.

Her attempts at speaking were both slurred, and gibberish. Welkin seemingly understood, and said, "Don't worry, I'll get a medic here," as he pulled her up onto his back, and discarding his M4 Carbine out of necessity (even on his back, she was a two-handed deal, mostly to keep her from falling off).

She felt the tingling stop, and regained some degree of feeling and control over her own body.

"Thank you, Welkin," Alicia said, fairly weakly.

---Soviet POV---

A sniper looked down into the scope of the Dragunov SVD. It far outclassed the old Mosin-Nagant he used when the war started.

He looked out at the allied soldier carrying a comrade, a female, no less, to a medic. After a snarky comment about how cute it was, he pulled the trigger three times.

The first round struck the male in the leg, and he collapsed. The second struck the female in the back; a life threatening injury. The final one hit the dirt (the sniper cursed himself for it). Predictably, a fairly foolish Medic tried to dash over to save his comrades, the Thompson he'd been given rattling away at the spot the sniper used for cover. A round to his chest silenced the gun.

The sniper scanned for another target. He found one; one that had found him, no less (possibly in part due to the Medic). A sniper, who he promptly put down with two pulls of the trigger. The first hit the sniper in the forehead; the second, for good measure, struck her in the jaw.

A whirring sound; the Sniper redirected his attention to a Mammoth tank that was advancing out of the War Factory. The Mammoth Tusk missiles made fairly short work of the Allied troopers near the tank, and the twin 120mm cannons made an odd-looking Medium tank detonate into many pieces. As the machine decimated the cut off Allied swine, the Sniper couldn't help but contently smile at the enemy's predicament.

---Allied POV---

Welkin was still awake. He regretted ditching the M4 now, for all the good it would do him anyway (but, it was better to go out fighting, wasn't it?) Alicia lay on the ground, not moving, but Welkin pulled himself over to the dead Medic, with the medical pack that could possibly keep her alive...

Alive long enough to get killed by the Soviets, but alive none the less. Welkin grabbed something marked with a green cross off the medic, then crawled back over to her. Apply bandages... stop the bleeding...

_Blam_.

Try not to get sniped. Welkin pressed himself against the ground, then tried to stand up. He fell over on the leg from which the Sniper had struck him. After getting Alicia on top of him, he pulled himself towards an uncrewed Ranger with the Thompson, then made more than one attempt to get Alicia into the passenger's seat.

After finally getting the incapacitated girl into the seat, he pulled himself up into the vehicle, then tried to maneuver himself into the driver's seat. He tried (and failed) many times, until he eventually pulled himself out of the Jeep's bed and into the seat. Now, to start the thing, as he turned the key.

The small engine roared as best as it could, as he attempted to drive it to the best of his current ability, combined with his inability to correctly drive the thing in the first place (he nigh smashed into more than one burnt out tank).

After (finally) making it out of the base and onto a road, he drove in the direction he had come from, looking for light gray-and-blue vehicles and troops. He soon spotted some, spotting the ever common box that was the M113 APC. One of the allied troops, a captain, looked up from his Medium Tank, a Leopard II in this case.

"Vat's the mat... _mein gott_. _Was geht heir_?"

Welkin looked up at the Captain. "Sir... we need a medic..."

"Yes, off course... _ein Arts! Ein Arts! Soldaten, ein Arts!_"

"_Jawohl, Hauptmann von Groebel_."

Some medics showed up shortly after this exchange. "Hauptmann von Groebel", and the rest of his group, rumbled off for the soviet base up the road, and presumably off to their deaths. They had left an APC and a combat-capable Ranger with the medics and the two wounded Gallians.

"Agh, _mein gott, leutnant_, vat happened?"

"She's wounded badly; I just got shot in the leg. Take care of her."

"Ja, of course. _Strauss, kommen sie Hier, und helf mich mit deise G__ä__llische!_"

"_Jawohl, Feldwebel_." one of the other medics came over to Alicia. "Nau, normally I vould say 'zis vill schting,' but since she's aut _kalt..._"

Regardless, she wasn't "aut kalt" for long.

---End Chapter 4---

_Oh, god. I'm going to get flak for having an OC from BFG cameo. I'm going to get more for basically having the Soviets win (if you can't tell, I'm actually biased to the Sovs.) If SEGA and EA made a VC/RA cross game, I'd probably play Soviets first... What can I say? it feels good to be bad! (that, and I'm a vindictive little bastard who would actually like to see VC told from a victorious enemy POV, hence why I'd play as the Soviets.)_

_Leave a review or OH GOD TESLA TROOPERS ARE FRYING ME AGH._


	5. Twin Cannon

_Some Generals units will be appearing... Some._

---Barious Desert, Joint Allied Command HQ---

If the sandstorms of the desert did one useful thing, it was deter Soviet air attacks. The scream of MiG engines distantly overhead wasn't an uncommon one, but they never came down low enough to fire off their payloads.

Welkin thought back to the failed Allied offensive in Randgriz, and what von Esling had done with the abilities Alicia had.

And the fact those abilities had almost caused the Soviet forces to kill her.

_**---Randgriz, about a month before---**_

The Orders of general Gunter von Esling overrode the orders of Lieutenant Welkin Gunther. It seemed that the Soviet forces fought harder than predicted: the normal Army had underestimated the abilities of Soviet tanks, so when the lancers went to fire armor-piercing shots at the rear of the twin-cannoned monsters, they were mortified to find that, not only did the tanks lack the radiators, but they seemed to have a single, uniform-thickness armor belt around them, as it took just as many lance shots to kill the tanks from above and behind, as it did from the front.

Welkin watched out of the modified Edelweiss, now mounting a 90mm gun like the Abrams tanks the Allies used, and with a similar uniform thickness armor belt, granting him more survivability. Isara had protested the Allied modifications, but after much convincing by Allied Mechanics (and direct orders from someone known only as "Commander A9").

Next to the tank, stood her. Alicia, with her lance and shield, giving off a similar glow to the one Welkin had seen back in Kloden, from the Tesla Trooper who had tried to kill her. Her hair, normally brown, was white as "a winter in Siberia" as a Polish soldier had put it, and her brown eyes had become as red as the star on the side of Soviet tanks.

He hated that High Command was forcing him to use her as a weapon, as he would a rifle or a tank. It saddened him; she was a person, and an important person to him, at that.

She had discarded her brown helmet, since with the black-white-blue camouflage she'd been issued, it did nothing to actually protect her, since days before hand, Hannes was wearing one of the helmets when the 7.62 rounds the Soviet AK47 fired tore clean through it.

Welkin thought back a bit: Squad 7, at one point, a potent combat unit, was highly effective against the Imperials they had faced when their invasion coincided with the ones the Soviets had commenced. But, against the forces of the Soviet Union, they failed miserably. It was no small advantage that the soviets had: Better technology, larger numbers (Squad 7 normally faced up against Regiments), and the fact that even the most potent Lancaar shot couldn't pierce the armor of a T-80 heavy tank, but by all means (as Zaka had demonstrated), the twin 105mm cannons could make short work of Gallian and Allied armor.

The joint force advanced. In the distance, the bright red flag of the Soviet Union fluttered from atop what would become known as the Valkof. But, at the moment, it was little more than a flagstaff.

The Allied Tanks rolled forward towards the Castle, with the intent of tearing the blood-red flag of the Soviet Union from its perch. Alicia, and many allied infantrymen of all types, marched forward.

It was not long until the trademark "Pum-pum" of a Heavy tank was heard, as one of the M48 Patton light tanks detonated as result of two direct hits. Welkin ducked into the Edelweiss when the sound of a Yak-9's engine passed overhead, and the rattling from the machine guns on the plane rattled. Many an Allied and Gallian Soldier died. Welkin thought of how only he, Isara, Alicia, and Marina were the sole remainders of Squad 7.

In the distance, Soviet riflemen took rounds to the head; no doubt the work of Marina. The Edelweiss advanced like many other Allied tanks. Welkin spotted a Mammoth tank in the distance, as the large machine rolled out, and fired the entire Mammoth Tusk missile packs at one target...

Alicia.

The potent Anti-personnel missiles screamed towards her, though she had directed her shield towards the incoming missiles, a hapless Heavy tank spotted her, and fired at her with its twin 105mm cannons.

The first one whizzed right by her fairly harmlessly, though the Light Tank behind her could attest otherwise.

The second struck just short of her in such a matter as to propel her upwards, and she came crashing back down, knocked out, as the flames faded and her hair reverted back to brown.

Welkin directed the Edelweiss's gun at the Heavy Tank, and a thunderous boom was heard.

_**---Present---**_

She was doing fine, though.

In the depths of the Bunker of Allied Command, Alicia had managed to scrape up enough of the necessary ingredients to make bread. The Allied soldiers spoke highly of it, though this was fairly predictable.

He was simply glad she had stayed alive long enough to bake bread in the depths of a bunker.

Welkin silently enjoyed her handiwork, as one of the Allied soldiers, probably a British one, commented loudly that it was the best bread he'd ever tasted. He'd been watching this Allied soldier. This one seemed intent on getting Alicia to go out with him.

Sitting back in his chair, Welkin chuckled at the Allied soldier a bit. He figured his name to be "Thomas Smith" or something. Nice enough guy, but Alicia being taken, wouldn't go out with him.

Welkin got up, and set off. Varrot had managed to stay alive; Welkin figured it was because the fairly competent von Esling was at the helm of the joint operation, rather than Damon. Squad 7 was also about due to replace fallen soldiers from recent battles.

He got up, and headed for Varrot's office. Alicia followed him; while it was not required, Alicia's small group of eight or so troops had taken a heavy toll last battle (She was the only surviving member... unsurprising, considering the Allies accepted some pretty high casualty rates). She followed him closely, and they came to the Captain's office.

She was still fairly depressed from one of the early skirmishes between themselves and pair of Soviet Mammoth Tanks that, while the two double-barreled monsters had fallen, it wasn't without cost. A fair amount of Squad 7's Lancers (and many members of the other classes) had fallen to the tanks (in fact, they would have been done for if an Apache Longbow hadn't showed up).

Amongst the killed, though, was Largo Potter.

Eleanor tried not to let it show too much; Stiff upper lip in the presence of A9 and von Esling, and that sort. But, it still tugged at her.

Welkin and Alicia entered the room, and inspected the new recruits, which consisted of four riflemen, two Rocket Soldiers, and a would-be Shocktrooper, if Allied doctrine hadn't regulated them into being support.

No familiar faces. Neither Welkin nor Alicia knew why they still bothered looking, since the only ones they would find would be their own, Isara, and Marina. All others were dead; claimed by the forward march of the Red Army, whose motto was "Not a Step Backwards."

The brown and tan uniforms issued for desert combat signified that the Allies intended, even if shit hit the fan, to hold Barious, for the sole purpose of it being a desolate place that the Soviets would find no value in, coupled with supposed oilfields, since neither the Allies or Soviets seemed to use Ragnite-based fuels.

Varrot allowed her two subordinates that had entered to be at ease. The two found seats, and grabbed the papers that accompanied the Allied soldiers. Welkin scanned them quickly, figuring that the papers would pass into the hands of the circular file soon enough, and handed them to Alicia without any degree of grace. He looked up at her, as she took time to read through them.

Why did she bother getting attached to someone who was just as likely to die as the next one? It seemed only to bring her sorrow, the rate at which the Soviets could kill soldiers, in comparison to the rate at which von Esling and A9 had them replaced.

When Alicia was sad, it had a chain effect on Welkin. Like a mother duck and her ducklings that followed close behind.

He dismissed the Allied soldiers, whose names he no longer bothered to remember: It would probably only be until the next run in with a Soviet force of credible threat that they would still be among the living.

And then, Alicia would be unhappy for a few days, which meant he would be unhappy.

Then, along would come replacements.

Rinse, and repeat as needed.

He hated this vicious circle, and he hated this damned war. When he and Alicia left Varrot's office, she stopped him.

Alicia tossed a worried look up at Welkin. She didn't like this war any more than he did, but at least she hadn't given up the will to fight. She still had the "Send those Commies back home" mindset she had back before Kloden, and Welkin wondered how he'd ended up with the "Hurry up and win, Ivan" mindset many Allied soldiers had adopted.

Especially considering how idealistic in comparison he was before those black helicopters, before the Allies, and before this war.

Her words, spoken in a soft tone that kept prying ears away, made Welkin think long and hard about things.

"Welkin... you haven't been yourself lately." She said after a strange silence.

"How so?" was Welkin's response.

"You just... I..." she stuttered a bit, trying to piece together what to say. "You... don't care, anymore, do you?"

"Of course I do, it's just... well..."

Another silence fell between them. They stood there, her looking up at him, and him, down at her, until she broke the contact.

"We can still win... right?"

He was surprised by this question.

"What do you mean?"

"The Soviets, they just keep coming. We kill one, they replace him with ten, and we kill ten, they replace with a hundred. Can we still win?"

"Do you think we can still win?"

Alicia again looked up at him, but said nothing. She wanted out as much as he did, but neither was really willing to purchase 'out' at the cost of the freedoms they had enjoyed as citizens of the Principality.

"We can win," Welkin said, setting his thoughts aside. "We _will_ win."

A slight hint of a smile appeared on Alicia's face.

"Do you really think so?"

"Of course I do. Do you?"

The smile simply grew wider. If Welkin could keep hope alive in her, then he could keep it going in himself.

They _would_ win.

---Soviet POV---

Field Commander S7 looked upon the complex chain of bunkers the allies had built, in the form of Aerial Recon photos.

After confirming the location of the Allied base with his aide, S7 began the task of plotting the fall of the last main quarters of Allied resistance, along with the capture of the Oilfields in Barious. The angry black-on-gray of Soviet tanks had been traded for a more useful solid yellow with markings in black, and the MiG-29 Fulcrums having their engines modified to prevent much of the dust formed during take off and landing from clogging them up.

He looked upon the map formed from the Recon photos, and had drawn in marker his battleplans. As normal for any Soviet commander, Heavy Armor would be leading the assault. He counted on the Allies deploying the ineffectual Valkyria against him, and he had recently reconfigured his War Factories and their computer assembly systems to build Tesla Tanks, and had the ability to fully deploy Tesla Troopers in the field.

Victory would be quick, and decisive.


	6. Militant Force

---Allied HQ, Barious Desert, Gallia---

Welkin simply lay awake in his bunk. Perhaps Alicia's words were right... perhaps he didn't actually care anymore.

His thoughts wandered to the sleeping woman next to him. At least, she still cared.

Despite the heat of the desert in the day, at night, it cooled off. Alicia cuddled closer to Welkin, attempting to keep herself warm beneath the simple blankets provided by the supply divisions.

Welkin looked at the clock next to his bed. It was one o' clock... oh-one-hundred hours, however you want to put it... in the morning, and he felt tired. But, he simply could not get to sleep.

After forcing thoughts from his head, and pulling Alicia closer, he felt himself drifting off into the early stages of sleep.

---Soviet Field HQ---

Field Commander S7 was readying for his assault in the morning. For the moment, though, his troops, and himself, were tired. They had marched for days to get here. S7 threw a look up at his subordinate, Nikolai Moskvin, who was attempting to memorize the battle plans before heading off to his bunk.

Without saying a word, S7 drew the young commander's mind away from the elaborate, detailed plan of what their forces would do, down to the last soldier. The Soviet Base was fully functional, and had been producing the units he needed for the assault, with a Tesla tank to Heavy tank ratio of 1:5, with a Mammoth tank every two passes of that.

After yawning, Moskvin picked up his coat, waved a quick goodnight to his commander, and headed towards the Officer's Quarters. Picking up his own coat, along with his hat, S7 followed the younger officer, and motioned for the only remaining lieutenant to follow him.

When they reached the Officer's Quarters, Commander S7 turned to the lieutenant, and said to her:

"I thank you for your aid, Lieutenant Fedorovich. I will wake you in the morning when I need you again. But, for now, rest." He accompanied this with a warm smile, as Dasha made her way further down the hall, to her own bunk.

S7 let out a yawn, as he kicked off his boots, placed his hat on the rack, and lay in bed, pulling the sheets up, so as to block out the sounds of the tanks and infantrymen who remained awake, to guard the base against any intruders.

---The next morning, Allied HQ---

"Lieutenant! Wake up!"

Welkin found himself startled into the day by a short haired brunette with a pair of pistols (in more than one way).

After rubbing the sand from his eyes, he looked up to the woman who had woke him up. The name tag on her vest denoted she was 'Adams.' Without a doubt, this was Tanya Adams, Professional Volunteer.

"Get your girlfriend up, Lieutenant. The Reds could be striking any moment."

Gathering his thoughts, he shook Alicia to wake her up. After a slight bit of muttering, she also awoke.

"Good. Now that your both awake, the Commander wants to see you."

Alicia grabbed her M16 assault rifle; at a later time, she would be given her lance and shield. Welkin did the same, replacing an M16 with an M4 carbine. The three of them, Alicia, Welkin, and Tanya, quickly made their way through the various hallways, until they came to a door labeled 'A9'.

They opened the door, and there stood an angered Commander A9. Why he seemed to be in a bad mood, was entirely up in the air.

The Commander paced in front of the three soldiers, swore in Danish, then returned his thoughts to the soldiers in front of him, as he returned to his chair, and cooled off, before continuing.

"Ahem," he began, clearing his throat, "My apologies for the show I put on... but I am quite bothered." He tapped a button on a controller he pulled out of his pants pocket. "I have an operation for you, and your team, Gunther. A Soviet Outpost has been spotted, but it isn't really an outpost anymore, but a full-blown base. What I want you, and Squad 7 to do, is to try to gather intelligence on the base, then, with support from Artillery, raise it to the ground."

Welkin nodded, as did Alicia.

"Now, the reason Miss Adams is here, is because she, and another operative, are trained in dealing with this sort of thing. Tanya, with dispatching of the infantry and buildings, and Burton, with explosives in general. You understand your objectives, yes?"

"Yes, Commander," Welkin said. Alicia offered no response; A9 generally only wanted her, and any of his subordinates, to speak to him only when he spoke to them, though he did make exceptions.

"Good. Also; Instead of the Edelweiss, I wish to inform you that you will instead be using a prototype tank called a 'Crusader.' It is a development on our M1 Abrams tank, and we wish to find out how effective it will be in combat."

"I don't think Isara would..." Welkin fell silent when A9 gave him a death glare. "Never mind."

"I figured. The sooner you can destroy that base, the better; We have reports that the soviets intend to use the base to launch an assault on our position. Apache Longbows will provide fire support if necessary."

Welkin nodded, and he, Alicia, and Tanya saluted A9.

"You move out in 20. Dismissed."

--- ---

Isara tossed one final look at the Edelweiss, truthfully thinking she would never see the machine she had kept again.

She pulled the hatch down on the M1954 Crusader tank's cockpit, and it sealed with a click. In the turret, with the tank's high-end automatic reload system and targeting computer, along with a 125mm cannon, was her older brother, Welkin.

The large machine rolled forward, its tracks being little more than a giant rubber band, so they didn't clank, meaning the tank ran quietly.

Welkin leaned out of the turret, and Alicia hopped up on top of it, having traded the bulky lance in for a more controllable mid-length sword.

In M113 transports, the rest of Squad 7 was rolling out behind Welkin's lead tank. The standard M1 Abrams tank, which slightly outclassed the Edelweiss despite Isara's best attempts to beat it, rolled behind the M113s, and a Ranger, little more than a jeep with a M249, drove alongside.

It took a few hours, but they reached the Soviet base. There was but one problem.

The base was empty.

---Back at Allied HQ---

Soviet Commander S7 watched from within his Mammoth Tank the destruction the Allies were suffering. They seemed not to have deployed the Valkyria, who Intelligence reported was 'Staff Sargent Alicia Melchiott,' from the small town of Bruhl.

He watched as Allied leadership crumbled in front of him, as his subordinate Moskvin made short work of the Allied forces, including an odd-looking Medium tank that was a bit sluggish, with concentrated fire from Heavy and Tesla Tanks, as Riflemen and Flametroopers rushed into the depths of the bunkers.

The tanks found the vehicle entrance, and blown the doors off, as a quartet of Mammoth tanks drove into the door, to wreck havoc on the inside of the complex, clearing the way for more Shock and Flame Troopers.

S7 figured it couldn't have been going better, even if he had planned it this way. Soon, the entirety of Gallia would be Europa's first Socialist Republic!

---End Chapter 6---

_Hmm... The Allies seem to have lost, and Welkin, Alicia, Isara, and Marina, along with Burton and Tanya, seem to have been called upon at just the time to save them. A9 saving them, at his own expense, I presume._

_I think the Crusader tank Welkin is riding in now could end up something like the Edelweiss, now I just need a name for it (If my memory recalls, an edelweiss is a type of flower, or some kind of plant, and a shamrock is fairly obvious, and that seems to be the naming convention for Squad 7's tanks.)_

_Be sure to leave a review._


	7. Eminent

---Allied HQ, Barious desert, Gallia---

Faldio and Ramal sat in a foxhole. From beneath his combat helmet, Faldio was tossing out subtle obscenities about the Soviets.

_Pum!_

"Damn!" Faldio shouted.

"We can't hold out much longer!" Ramal shouted in response

"Let's get out of here!" Faldio dashed out of the foxhole. Ramal quizzically looked around a bit after loading his rifle, turned to see the tread of a Soviet Heavy Tank, and screamed as the vehicle ground over him like he was sand.

---Soviet Base---

The M1954's 125mm cannon fired in a thunderous roar, as a Flame Tower caught the round, and detonated. Following explosions from the War Factory, Barracks, and Ore Refinery sealed the coffin on this Soviet base.

Welkin felt an odd smile stretch across his face, as he watched the base crumble and burn to cinders. Alicia found that her abilities were unneeded; Tanya Adams, and Colonel Burton had basically flattened the base themselves.

A crackly voice came in over the radio.

"Lieute...t Gunther! Lieutenant Gu...er! The Sovi...re atta...! Do not ret... to base! I repe...n't return to ba...! Sav... selves!" Then, there was static.

"Commander? Commander!" Welkin called into the radio.

Then, he smacked his hand against his forehead.

The reason the Soviet base seemed abandon was because they had missed there opportunity to actually damage the force stationed there. The Soviets had moved in on the final Allied stronghold.

Alicia hoped back atop the M1954. She produced a look of semi-innocent curiosity.

"What was that?" She asked.

"The commander... The Soviets are attacking the base, and the Commander ordered us not to return."

The curious look on Alicia's face was replaced with one of a mixture of anger and sadness.

"What do you mean? We should head back and help him!" She shouted at Welkin.

Welkin began to consider his options. On one hand, A9 had ordered them (or at least, he thought A9 had ordered them) not to return to the base, so going back and helping would be a violation of orders. On th other, Alicia was right in the sense that they should go help A9 fend off the Soviets; it was sort of their job, after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by a MiG fighter screaming overhead. The fighter dumped its load of missiles into the Abrams tank, utterly destroying it. The plane then zipped back into the distance.

Welkin let out a sigh. "Alicia," he began, "aren't you tired of this war? The Soviets have the upper hand in all cases; better tanks, equipment, and we cannot go a millimeter without the prying eyes of a spy plane looking down on us."

"But..."

"Let me finish. Any move we make, they can counter, and in such a time frame as to prevent us from even firing off a good shot. I dislike the idea as much as you do; but this is a fight we cannot win."

She looked at him, her look being one of pure sadness. After a few seconds, she spoke.

"Didn't you tell me... not even less than a week ago... that we would win? That we would drive the Soviets out of Gallia? Didn't you?!" Her voice was raising, and tears had started to form in her eye. "Welkin! How can you just let the Reds occupy our country, without doing anything about it?"

"I... I'm sorry..."

"Sorry won't cut it!" Alicia's voice had risen to the point of shouting, and she was all-out crying.

"Alicia, I..."

"No! Just... no..." She walked off to sulk in an M113. Welkin had this feeling that he was in the doghouse right now; He'd let her cool off (he chuckled at his poor word choice), then try to apologize when she was in a better space.

Within the armored personnel carrier, Alicia simply flopped herself into one of the seats. She felt betrayed; for all she cared at the moment, She might as well have caught Welkin cheating on her.

Settling her face in her hands, she reminisced about memories from back before the war, and even a few during.

The tears continued to flow from her eyes, as she plunged herself into darkness within the sealed M113 APC.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knocking sound on the outside of the vehicle. Welkin, no doubt.

"Go away."

"Is your girlfriend, Allied swine. _You_ talk to her."

The accent. Welkin didn't roll his R's and by no means did he refer to her as 'Allied Swine' (and if he did, she'd flat out hit him.)

This left only one possibility. She peered out of the M113's periscope, and saw Welkin held by some Russian soldiers. Apparently, her crying had drown out the Soviet forces returning to their base.

The Russians pried the door of the M113. Alicia found herself in the presence of AK-47 assault rifles. As the Soviets dragged her out of the halftrack, she cast a blue glow across the ground. Welkin shook his head to her, and the light dimmed out; behind a ring of Riflemen, a larger ring of Tesla tanks.

Alicia didn't feel particularly apt to finding out what happens when she got shocked.

---End Chapter 7---


	8. Workmen

_A/N: I guess this story is a bit on the depressing side, contrasting heavily with the offbeat humor of Red Alert, and the happy outlook presented by VC's ending, with Welkin and Alicia ending up married... oops..._

_Ah, well. If you haven't played the game, you've probably watched the Anime, and they both have (about) the same ending... it's close enough, kinda like bombing a pickle barrel from 10,000 feet... if you hit ten feet away from the pickle barrel, it's close enough._

---Randgriz, Gallian Soviet Socialist Republic, September 1935---

It had been a few good months since the Soviet victory... an old legend was that, so long as there was a will to protect it, Gallia would not fall.

Unfortunately, the Soviets never heard this legend.

Welkin's studies had been since interrupted by the constant whirring of Mammoth Tank engines. While the Civilian Population couldn't pose any threat to any armor the Soviets had, the Prime Minister, Marchenko (who lead the Soviets during the War), was taking no chances of them possibly digging up a Lance or a Recoilless Rifle...

Or the Gladiolus.

Welkin thought back to the Allied tank, and wondered of the fate that had befallen his sister, who had decided to use the Gladiolus as replacement for the Edelweiss. As such, having let one tank be destroyed, she had apparently set it in her mind not to let another be destroyed by the Soviets.

---Soviet Research Facility, Northern GSSR---

A soviet Riflemen pulled Isara out of the back of the retooled Studebaker, which had been repainted Soviet colors. A considerable amount of people, men and women who happened to be good with their hands, had been gathered at this particular facility. Isara, and many other people in the truck, most of them Darscens, had feared the worst for themselves and their families, but when they all got out of the trucks, expecting to find a concentration camp (or, as she'd heard a Russian put it, a Gulag), but instead found a crisp, clean facility that wasn't, at least in appearance, meant for such harsh intentions.

"You are Isara Gunther, yes?"

She turned to face a young looking riflemen, who was equipped not with the common AK-47, but with a much more primitive looking weapon (an SKS).

"Yes, I am."

The Soldier nodded. "Good; tovarishch Prime Minister has special project for you, and some others. Follow me, yes?"

She obliged, not knowing whether or not the Soviet intended to use his rifle. After some walking, they came to a garage, labeled 'Armored Research and Development'. The Soviet scanned a card, a click was heard, and he opened the door.

"Ladies first, yes?"

She nodded, and proceeded, saying nothing. The Soviet closed the door behind her, his demeanor contrasting with the words of many an Allied soldier. If anything, the rifles held by the Soviet troops where used not to threaten them, but rather, since a fair amount of Darscens had been sent to the area, to be used to _defend_ them; the area the facility had been built still held considerable anti-Darscen sentiments.

They came to a door, labeled:

Исследование танк - мамонтовый проект – Tank Research - Mammoth Project

"Is your project, Isara."

Isara simply nodded to the Soviet, as he opened the door, and motioned for her to go in before him. She looked out at the sight before her; one of the Soviet Mammoth tanks used during the war, though it completely lacked any markings... or paint, for that matter. Beside it, the Gladiolus, or, more properly, the M1954 Crusader.

She became confused.

"Uh... what is there for me to work on? I see two complete tanks."

The soviet chuckled lightly. "See two finished tanks, yes, but tovarishch Prime Minister wants one bigger, stronger, not-yet finished tank."

She nodded. "How soon does he want this thing?"

"As soon as tank is finished. Can be two months, can be two years. Take time; get all kinks out." He motioned to her. "Come; I take you to quarters."

---Randgriz---

The only plus side she could see to Soviet occupation was that the brown uniforms issued to her and Welkin looked good.

Alicia stubbornly refused to accept Marchenko as the ruler of Gallia, and seemed to think that, once Cordelia had power, Marchenko and his Commie Cronies would be out. But, for the time being, she was in the dress uniform of the Gallian People's Liberation Army, with its red collar, with the little yellow hammer and sickle pin on it, and the red armband with a star drawn out in yellow outlines.

Welkin walked into the room, fully dressed in the Officer's version of the dress uniform, with a fuzzy hat, an Ushanka, atop his head.

She looked down at her own ushanka, which was a dark brown, to match the dress. It had a simple red star on it, to Welkin's with the a red star, some golden looking leaves, and a hammer-and-sickle.

"You coming?" Welkin said, his tone one of slight despair, but mostly neutrality.

Alicia sighed, then placed the ushanka atop her head. "Yes, I'm coming."

She grabbed the AK-47 issued by the military. Despite the war being over, the GPLA never seemed to end the Universal Conscription... perhaps the precursor, the Red Army, did something similar.

The two of them stepped out of the house. The hats upon there heads were best suited for the winter; but the dress ones seemed to be made of a light, non-insulating material.

The trio of soldiers waiting for them consisted of some former Regular army pricks.

"Oh, look! Peasants! Since when did this become the Militia?"

"Heh... no wonder we lost. So many meat shields, we had too few fighters!"

Alicia grumbled to herself.

"Hey, maybe the Reds will do the right thing, and just get rid of the Militia outright?"

"Wishful thinking, buddy. The Reds aren't that smart."

Alicia couldn't contain herself any longer. "Listen, 'comrade.' There is no Militia. There is no Regular Army. We lost because pricks like you couldn't get their heads out of their asses long enough to figure out the guys they were shooting at weren't Soviets."

Ah, yes. The Fouzen Incident.

"Meh. Militia, Reds. What's the difference? They're both peasants."

Alicia was restraining herself from slugging this prick. Welkin had, seemingly quite wisely, distracted himself.

"What's the difference? _What's the DIFFERENCE?_ I'll tell you the _fucking_ difference! One wears brown and calls everyone 'comrade', and the other's on _your _side! Your smart enough to know which is which, or should I feed you that, too?"

A Soviet Officer interrupted things. "Comrades! Stop this, now!" He shouted, placing his AKM between Alicia and the three soldiers. "Comrade Lieutenant, control your subordinates!"

Welkin gave no response, having distracted himself with sketching.

"Comrade Lieutenant! Hey! Comrade Gunther!"

Welkin perked suddenly. "Yes, Comrade Captain?"

"Hrmph. Control your subordinates, comrade lieutenant." The Captain spread Alicia and the soldiers apart. "Hah. Am surprised you even held out more than few weeks, with incompetence like that."

There was no response.

"Good. Comrade Lieutenant, I..."

"Has anyone ever told you how much like a lion you look, Captain?"

"...Uh, no. Relevance, comrade Lieutenant?"

"Sorry, Captain. Just thought I'd toss that out there."

A strange silence fell.

"Oh... kay then," the Captain said, stroking his unshaven face, "Comrade Premir wants to have military inspection. This includes you, Comrades."

"I bet we fail because of those Militia rabble."

"Will have you know, Comrade Corporal, that _I_ could be considered 'Militia Rabble'."

This shut the troops up; If _Boris_ was Militia Rabble, they didn't really want to know what the Red Army's version of them was (unbeknown to them, though, was the fact that 'Militia Rabble' could be accurately applied to the entire Red Army).

After a few moments of no chatter, Boris spoke again.

"Come now; we have inspections. Will not miss it for entire world!"

The five of them followed Boris down to an intersection not far from the spot outside the apartment Alicia and Welkin resided in. A captured M113, a familiar sight to all of them, stand off to the side of the road. It was painted the normal black/dark gray pattern that all soviet vehicles were painted, and also had the common red star, which Alicia was actually getting sick of.

Nearly everywhere she looked, she could see a red star. Vehicles, clothing, the pictures the Party required be hung on the walls, everything had a red star somewhere.

Deep down inside, she wanted to hurl.

---End Chapter 8---

_Well, whether or not Workmen was a suitable title... well, I had 'Mud',_ _wherein Alicia gets her Valkyria powers awoken by a Soviet sniper (a unit we can assume was there, but just wasn't trainable). Admittedly, way back in Mud, I was going to have the Ranger get its engine block shot out, but decided to save the Jerkassery until Yuri gets into the fray... Yes, the Psychic Madman will actually appear._

_Leave a review, or I swear, Lenin damn it, I'll kill Alicia and Welkin, too!*_

_*No, I won't, but I had to come up with some witty thing to put there._


	9. Afterlife

---Barious, Gallian Soviet Socialist Republic, January 1936---

Multiple Allied tanks rolled into firing range of the strange new machine. Its twin coils jetted out a pair of lightning bolts, causing the ammo stores on an Abrams tank to explode.

A Second tank discharged its coils, setting a Patton alight, while a third turned an old Heavy tank into molten steel.

Moskvin's smile stretched eagerly across his face as he observed the destruction caused by the next generation of Tesla tanks. He found himself in the position of the main mind behind these modified M113s taken from the Allied remnants.

"Comrade General, How do they work?" A Female voice crackled over the radio.

"They work beautifully," was Moskvin's response.

"Not the word I would use to describe it, but, if you think so, I guess it is."

"How soon can we get it into production?"

"About a month, if the Premier clears it."

---Randgriz---

Snow covered the ground, minus the areas commonly trodden upon by the wheels of the Security Vehicles Marchenko had converted from various GAZ-AA trucks.

Welkin, dressed in a normal combat uniform (albeit colored white), as was Alicia. They found themselves standing guard on a none-too-hostile looking bakery, which bothered Alicia. Even having not baked since June, she still had to contain herself from removing the Ushanka and combat jacket, and putting on an apron and hairnet, and doing what Welkin had started thinking was biologically _part of her_.

Not that he had anything against it; of the many things Alicia was, he could, by all means, add the words 'Good Baker' to that list.

She had distracted herself from her wishes by dismantling and reassembling the AK-47 on the table in front of them.

The two of them looked up when the bell on the Bakery's door rang. A man in a dark trench coat and fedora was seen, as he looked around, sniffing the air.

Welkin kept watching the man, as he walked over to the counter. The attendant came over to him.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

The man looked onto the shelf. "Will have... sir, what is that?" He pointed to a pastry.

"That? It's a bear claw."

"Is not."

"It is too; that's what it's called."

He shrugged. "Eh. Did not call it that in Russia. How much?"

"Two ducats."

"Will rubles work?"

"That'd be three and a half rubles."

The man in the trench coat chuckled. "We win, but money still is bad." He produced the rubles, and was handed one of the bear claws.

Welkin returned to the now-assembled AK-47 in front of him; Alicia had apparently finished it

The Man in the trenchcoat spoke to them. "Your friend, she likes that gun, yes?"

Alicia looked up. "No; but it takes my mind away from baking."

"You are baker? Why do you hold AK-47, then?"

"Because Marchenko had..."

Welkin bumped Alicia. "Doesn't that voice sound familiar?" He whispered to her.

Alicia blushed.

"What is problem, miss?"

"Nothing. Just... forgot what I was going to say, that's all."

"Heh. Know that feelink. Always comes at most inconvenient times, too."

Welkin and Alicia gave no response.

Marchenko sighed. "Need to work on cover voice now, yes?"

They nodded shyly. It wasn't every day that the Premier happened to walk into the same Bakery as you.

"Well, since you've figured out who I am, you want something?"

Conveniently enough, there was a stomach growl.

"Sounds like it, Tovarishch... eh, names please? Wait... no, girl is Melchiott, and officer is Gunther, right?"

Alicia nodded. "Yeah, that'd be us."

"You fought with Allies during war, yes?"

Neither wanted to answer; he seemed to be baiting him.

"I know either way; Alicia, you do not like Communism, no?"

Yep. He was baiting them.

"Again, I already know either way; in a way, do not blame you."

She lightened up.

"On other hand, though..." Marchenko muttered something in Russian. "But, I applaud you for not resisting; lesson learned from war is 'don't mess with us,' yes?"

He tossed some rubles over to Alicia and Welkin.

"Here, kindness of Premier's heart; be glad am not sending you to Gulag, like Stalin did."

That word, 'Gulag,' was one that chilled both Welkin and Alicia. They knew not what it meant, but, if what the Allies had said about Stalin was correct, it wasn't any good.

Marchenko left. Between Welkin and Alicia, he had left ten rubles for each.

---End Chapter 9---

**Welkin and Alicia having a surprise run-in with Prime Minister (Premier) Marchenko... I figure, Sergei being in a position o great power, and nigh-constant public spotlight (along with all those KGB guards), he probably would want to take a break. Trench coat, check. Fedora, Check. Accent... needs work. I figure, Sergei Marchenko would have an easily-recognizable voice.**

**On a more technical note: Expect to see M113's in service with the Allied Remnants, the Revolutionaries (my mental image of their forces bears an odd resemblance to the Confederate Revolutionaries from the _Red Alert 3: Paradox_ mod [which is looking quite interesting]. Albeit, we won't be seeing any Beagle or Mastiff tanks any time soon, but jerry-rigged tanks using the M113 as a base for both the Allies and GRA isn't entirely implausible.**

**Leave a Review. While, Moorage, your one-liner reviews about your overall opinion of the fic are nice and all, I know I have some flaws in there somewhere; Share any gripes you have about the fic in the reviews (since you having an AnimeSuki account is unlikely at best).**


	10. Perseverance

_This chapter will mark the conclusion of the fic 'Red Alert,' however, another fic located solely in the VC Section, 'Red Alert: The Uprising' will come along at some point. This decision is due to the fact that, while RA2 and 3 units will appear in some form (Desolators, for instance), and Moskvin will appear in any following sequels I may write, the story of the GSSR is not one constrained to the Crossover section alone, but a Soviet-Imperial war would mark the use of units not used by either side in the games proper (Musings on the AnimeSuki forums between myself and another user, Firefly00, have produced many a unit that the Soviets didn't use in any RA games, ranging from MiG variants to M113 modifications.)_

_At the risk of this AN becoming a bit long, I wish to thank Mooarge (my apologies for the butchering of your name), and itrytofight for their support, along with the silent supporters who have read the fic, and the aforementioned Firefly00, for his aid in coming with new ways for the Soviets to curb stomp their enemies._

---Castle Randgriz, Gallian People's Liberation Army, GSSR, 1st May, 1936---

The blue and white flag of the Principality, and of the Duchy, no longer flew on any flagstaffs.

Marchenko looked out the window, bottle of Vodka in his hand, upon the flag that had replaced the old one. In place of blue, there was red, and in place of white, there was yellow. The coat of arms placed in the center of the old flag was replaced by the universal symbol of Communism: a red Hammer-and-Sickle, with a red outline of a star placed above it.

The PM turned his thoughts way from the glorious flag that now flew above the heads of the liberated people, and to the plans drawn up by a Gallian commander who had willingly joined the Party in their quest to liberate the people of Europa; Marchenko thought it odd that such a man would willingly fight for what would undoubtedly be considered the 'evil communists' for years to come, and the Atlantic Federation and the East Europan Imperial Alliance both had a sudden, but justified, fear of a sudden takeover of the government by Men from the Blue Lights, as had happened in Gallia.

But, such a fear was also unfounded: Marchenko and any Subordinates of his that spoke Russian with a good accent, were the only Soviets sent through.

Turning to the first Gallian commander in the GPLA, he spoke. "Comrade Commander G7," he began, "Plans for invasion of Empire are quite commendable, if recon photos and GRU are trusted. Only one problem; We don't have equipment or men to carry out such operation yet; projected we will have numbers from Universal Conscription by... 1939, but the equipment; tanks, aircraft, ships, by 1937."

The Gallian nodded, and replied. "I understand Comrade Prime Minister, but by then the Empire could have set their sights on us: By all means, they have greater numbers than we do."

"Yes, but, if some well-placed KGB agents can get this... Maximilian, into power, we could use his dislike for Darscens to our favor: Empire rejected aircraft out of racism, no? We play this up, and focus mostly on airborne assault, should take out the important infrastructure quickly, right? Without their industrial capabilities, Empire cannot build tanks; cannot build tanks, cannot fight our bigger, stronger tanks, no?"

"Well, the GRU and KGB reports said something about them having a plan B relying heavily on infantry, and one of the Valkyrur named..." the commander looked at the intel report. "...Selvaria Bles."

Marchenko laughed. "Ha! We have weapons to fend of any... Valkyria, who fight us, no? Tesla weapons, aircraft, Atomic weapons..."

"Atomic weapons, Comrade Premier?"

"Dah... can annihilate entire city in one pass. *_Boom_.* Like that."

G7 became a bit shaky. "Sir, are you sure that such destructive power... should ever be used by someone who isn't a Valkyria?"

"Of course: We develop it, we use it. Simple process. Valkyria is... biological error: they are mutants, not humans, in mind of mine. Since wars fought with humans, we don't use Valkyria here in GSSR."

G7 was a bit unnerved by the Premier's opinions on the superhumans. "Comrade PM, one Valkyria can annihilate an army! How can you say they should not exist?"

"Because; back in Glorious Mother Russia, we fought with guns, tanks, planes and missiles: No burning blue woman aided us or the Allies during the Great Patriotic War. In fact; such person would be... liability, not advantage."

G7 fell silent. Arguing with Marchenko was ultimately futile: once he made his point, his mind could not be changed.

To many, the Valkyria were gods; to the Communists, since to them there was no deity higher than the Glorious Comrade Prime Minister, the people who conquered Europa a little under 1500 years ago were mere _errors _in the gene pool.

This confused G7.

---Elsewhere in the city---

_Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp._

The May Day inspections had ended; as a bit of proof that the Soviets were here to stay, they had held the grander of the military inspections in the Castle, while a few journalists from various parts of the world were allowed entry to show their nations that the Old Gallia was no more. A New Military, a New Leader, and a New Government, all of which had overrode the old ones.

Ellet found herself at the forefront of this inspection, as the new Rhino tanks rolled by, alongside the many thousands of Russian troops sent through the portals from the other side.

She looked upon the photos she had taken; while not a single reporter was allowed inside the tanks, she had managed to sneak into a Heavy tank parked for deployment in the Militia, which had been integrated with the GPLA. The photos, all of them black and white, could not capture the actual images on the screen, as green text in both Russian and Gallian appeared. She had found herself attempting to figure out the OSS as she had overheard some troops call it when they kicked her out.

Turning to look out the window, she watched as some Soviet troopers high-stepped by with their odd looking AK-47 assault rifles. While she didn't understand a word of Russian, she'd heard Marchenko translate the name as _Kalashnikov's Assault Rifle, Model 1947_, which was either him being cocky and thinking the weapon was eleven years ahead of it's time, or the other side of the portals was of a later date than the year 1947. The latter was correct, but she would never know that; there was much the GRU and KGB held close, from the prying eyes of a reporter.

She had heard rumors of the GPLA having a branch called the GPLAAF, or Gallian People's Liberation Army Air Force, but the only thing in the air during the May Day inspections was the 'National Hymn of the Republic,' and the words, sung in Russian by a chorus of the many thousands of Russian troops gathered.

After attempting to forget the tune of the song, and the first verse, to no avail, Ellet gathered her photos, and headed out of the room reserved for her by the KGB, the entire time having the odd feeling she was being watched.

---Gallian People's Liberation Army Air Force Headquarters, Nuclear Missile Sub-Command---

One of the less public of the Inspections was the Marshal of the Republic's visit to the command headquarters of one of the most well-concealed part of the entire military (save for the Submarines, though their secrecy was wearing off after Civilian reports of 'black sea monsters' when the ships came up for air).

"Comrade Marshal.," said the General in charge of the Nuclear Missile Sub-Command. "Comrade Premier..."

"Yes, yes," said the voice of Nikolai Moskvin. "Trust me; if Comrade Marchenko says it, I'm always the first to hear it."

"Yes, of course, Comrade Marshal." The General gave a salute.

Moskvin turned his attention to the screens. The main, dominating one displayed a map of Europa. Lesser ones showed the state of readiness of multiple missiles; every word was written in Russian; due to the secrecy of the NMsC, not a single Gallian, and only Marchenko's most trusted soldiers, were allowed into the bunker far below the Castle that housed the place from which the order to annihilate a continent would be given.

"To think, that the Prime Minister can make a phone call, and twenty minutes later kill millions of people," the General said.

Moskvin Chuckled. "Comrade General, I would rather Comrade Marchenko have that power than some idiot who would actually use it."

---END 'RED ALERT'---

_The Story of the GSSR, and Welkin and Alicia in the GPLA is not finished, but this chapter in the the Republic's history has come to a close._

_Leave a Review, then, in the future, look for Red Alert 2: The Uprising in the regular VC Section, since it will draw more from VC than RA (save for units and the like.)_


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